


things don't stay

by bombcollar



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24291190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombcollar/pseuds/bombcollar
Summary: Callie gets ready for Final Fest and Marie reassures her.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	things don't stay

**Author's Note:**

> tw for weight talk/fatshaming in the beginning of the fic.

“Are you holding your breath or something?”

“No! I- ow!” Callie hisses as the wardrobe tech, a sullen-looking angelfish, yanks the corset strings on the back of her concert outfit. Final Fest was due to start in a couple weeks, and she and Marie had been invited back to perform alongside Pearl and Marina. Just like old times, they said. The dressing room even smelled the same as it always did, like stale coffee from the time some intern had knocked over an entire to-go carton and it had soaked into the carpet.

The tech clicks her tongue. “Yeah, this isn’t gonna work.” Turning away, she goes to grab her measuring tape as Callie awkwardly folds her arms over her chest to hold up the sagging sequined one-piece.

“I don’t understand why they went ahead and made the outfit before they got my measurements,” she huffs, frowning at the floor.

Shrugging, the tech nudges her arms away and wraps the tape around her chest. “Guess they figured a pop star would keep herself in shape.”

“I-!” Callie cuts herself off, ears pinning back as she looks over her shoulder at the tech. For all the sickly feelings bubbling up inside her right now, she can’t seem to find any words, eventually settling on mumbling, “…I’m not a pop star anymore.”

“Mmhm,” is the noncommittal reply she gets, the tech sliding the tape down to her tummy, then making a note on her tablet. “We’ll get this tailored and give you a call. That’s all we need from you for now.”

Once the tech leaves, Callie strips off the concert outfit and throws it into the corner of the dressing room, then pulls the comfortable t-shirt and capris she’d worn to the studio back on. When she returns to the lobby, Marie is already there, sitting on one of the couches and holding her phone up above her head, probably trying to find a good selfie angle. She looks over as Callie flops down next to her, lowering her hands to her lap.

“I don’t know what they expected!” Callie busts out before Marie can ask. “It’s been like three years!

Marie blinks at her. “Huh? Oh, the- Did they give you a hard time about your concert outfit?”

“Yes! I mean- no, not _really_ …” Callie scowls at the coffee table, at the glossy magazines bearing old photos from Splatfests past. On her walk over here she’d begun to question if it even made sense for her to be annoyed about this. She’d heard much worse while the Squid Sisters were still an idol group. “It wasn’t even a big deal, they just have to fix it, it’ll take like a day. They just shoulda called me first before they made the thing!”

“Yes, they should’ve…” Marie knows Callie is more sensitive about things than she likes to let on. It was easy weathering impersonal comments from tabloids or internet critics, but it was another thing to hear it from someone in person. She gives Callie’s shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, Cal. We’re both better off now than we were during the last fest. I didn’t think about it much when we were performing, but it was kind of a nightmare, wasn’t it? The whole Splatfest thing.”

Callie sighs, leaning on the arm of the couch and resting her cheek in her hand. “I dunno if I’d call it a nightmare. It was rough sometimes, sure, but…”

“They had us performing for hours and hours straight. We barely got water breaks because it’d damage the illusion or whatever,” Marie goes on. “They had us living off energy drinks. It took you a year just to remember how to sleep normally. You remember that, right?”

“Yeah…” If Callie was going to be honest, those years were a total blur. She couldn’t even remember which team she’d been on for most of the Splatfests she’d hosted. Sure, it’d been fun, exhilarating even to get up on the stage and dance and see the delighted faces of her fans below, to feel that runners’ high that kept her going late into the night and the satisfied soreness and headaches the next day. As time went on, their producers had just pushed them both harder and harder, public appearances and private events and commercials on top of everything else. That was the price of stardom, they’d said. Lack of privacy, your whole life a performance. It was only because she and Marie had made a lot of noise and threatened to sue once their contracts had ended that Pearl and Marina were so much better off.

“And they’re not making us do that anymore, so of course you’re not going to be the same,” Marie continues. “…and yeah, it’s been three years since the last fest, almost. Both of us are older. You’ve been doing all kinds of acting. I’ve been…” She makes a vague gesture, waving her hand in a loose circle. “…around.” Monitoring Octo Valley and heading the NSS took up a lot of her time, but it was a necessary sacrifice. Plus fans loved that mysterious recluse thing. Didn’t exactly pay well, but those Squid Sisters royalty checks were still coming in. She was okay for now. “You’ll be fine, Cal. Long as you’re happy doing what you are, you’ll be fine.”

Callie gives her a wan smile. As usual, Marie was right, and Callie knew her hurt feelings would mend in a little while. Acting made her happy, picking her own projects made her happy, and eating what she wanted made her happy and she shouldn’t have to apologize for it. She’d been managing things so much better since the whole Octo Canyon incident, too. She really ought to be proud of herself for how far she’d come from the desperate little kid with her face pressed up against the train window, watching for the city lights to come into view. “Thanks… I know. Just doesn’t make it suck less for someone to talk to me like I did something wrong.”

“Well. You can’t control people being assholes.” Marie shrugs. “You wanna get out of here? They said it’d be a day, no sense in waiting around.”

“Yeah!” Callie hops to her feet. As soon as Marie gets up, Callie throws her arms around her cousin in a hug, one that would have been bonecrushing if Marie had bones. “Ugh, you’re so nice to me all the time,” she scoffs in mock irritation. “You gotta cut it out or I’m gonna start thinking you care about me.”

“I’ll ruin your career and steal your spotlight any day now.” Marie pats her back. Thank goodness the days of fabricated onscreen rivalry were over, and she could say this stuff because it was funny, not because she was scripted to be mean to Callie.

Callie laughs at that, giving Marie a friendly punch on the arm, which was probably a bit more forceful than she intended. Lots of things might have changed, but her Roller muscles sure hadn’t. “Oh, and also, they wouldn’t even let me wear the mohawk helmet!” She exclaims as they head out the studio doors. “Talk about bogus.”


End file.
